Forget Me Please
by Radioactive X-Naut
Summary: In the land of Forget-Me-Not, not much happens. It's quiet, peaceful... Boring. Of course, nobody would suspect a washed-up looking pair from Mineral Town coming to inherit the farm of the dead guy of any funny business... Right? DS Cute Based.


Meh, this may be a short lil' prologue/monologue, but I'm not sure if I'll continue with this. Music got stuck in my head, and I was bored. So this was born.

Anyways, enjoy~

**[Prologue]**

_Dear Diary;_

Y'know, people don't think much of shipping weeds. Weeds and mushrooms. A single piece of gold per pound. Peh. You'd think they'd be more generous with such a desirable little piece of grass.

Mushrooms make a little more then weeds though- while they both crop up wherever there happens to be free land, fungi usually come in fall, though make a quite a bit more should you cultivate it to the best potency. Otherwise, it's just worth chump change.

So, I inherited a farm recently. I was rather happy I could move out of my soggy cardboard box in the back alley of the ol' General Store in this place's sister town. It was a glorious day! Apparently my old man died though. Ah well, that's life for ya. Knocks off the cranky old farts to make room for the needy.

M'name's Claire by the way. You can also refer to me as Vivian, Marissa, Pony, Tabitha, Cherry, Orphan Annie, Karen, KawaiiCupcake-Chan and... well, just about any name under the sun really.  
Just not in front of anyone in a suit, okay? Suited men and women don't like hearing about my alter egos much. They make quite a scary face when you mention one~ Though you can't speak, Diary. So I suppose you can't really ask...

_Moving on, I--_

"H-Hey... Lady C, why is it that your only articles of clothing are... overalls?..."

The blonde turned her head away from the notebook she had been scribbling in, glancing with slight annoyance at the brunette. He noticeably flinched under her gaze for a moment, before lowering the clothing article (which he had been holding up by the straps in tightly pinched fingers by now) into the wooden chest.

"Farmers wear overalls, right? They won't suspect anything if I'm in overalls. What's it to ya?" Claire sighed, reaching under the bed she had been sitting cross-legged on.

Flinch. "T-there's no problem! I-I-I--"

The stuttering was promptly cut off once a bright red Styrofoam block with the word "FAIL" painted in white capital letters across the side was launched at the unsuspecting brunette's head.

"Just get back to work, C-man. We'll have dinner when you're done unpacking." The woman replied tonelessly, before flipping herself back into a more comfortable position on the bed to continue writing.

"Y-yes.."

_Moving on, I decided to take my business here, to operate under the cover of a farmer. My organization partner, "Cliff", shall assist me, posing as a farmhand.  
He's a stuttering buffoon, but he's reliable enough. Besides, leaving him on the streets after he's been in on this with me for years just wouldn't do. My no~!_

__

Though speaking of farmhands now I live alongside this creepy pedophile named Tacky Curry with his impossible pet eyebrows with his equally impossible name. He thinks Cliff and I are up to somethin'. Lil' ol' me? Never! I'm offended he'd suggest such a thing...

Farmers can have more then one farmhand and nobody will look twice, right?.. Wait, why am I asking a blank book? Oh well. Fate'll deal with him if he takes a bit too much interest in our business.

_Hm? You want to know what we're doing, Diary? We're taking over the farm, of course, Diary! Hehe, I haven't eaten fresh produce in a while, so it'll be a nice change from the norm._

"I-I'm done unpacking our things!"

Claire glanced up once more at her roommate, who had already seated himself at the kitchen table. Well, technically, this house had no kitchen for some stupid reason.

...So, it was just a hobo sitting on a ratty pillow in front of a plastic table with a can opener and some canned corn. How DID her father live here all those years?... Well, at least it was a step up from the cardboard box.

"I'll be there in a second. Hold on."

_Well, I suppose I've ran my pen enough for now. It's dinner time- we're having a feast in honor of our new place._

_'Till next time, Diary._


End file.
